Hillbilly Elegy pt. 3: My Response to the Film

I’ve watched Hillbilly Elegy a few times now—once with my family. A lot of the reviews I’ve read from professional film critics have blended together and highlighted many of the same scenes. While I think the pivotal, climatic scenes should be analyzed the most, I’m going to examine some lesser talked about scenes and hopefully offer something new to the conversation. From what I’ve gathered from reading the memoir and talking to Molly Hughes, the production designer, the details of the family are mostly accurate in the film. The depiction of the characters has been criticized for being too stereotypical, but it also seems to be an authentic portrayal of who they were/are. While some may try to use his family to make abstractions about the region, I thought that the backdrop and background characters spoke more to how Vance and Howard viewed the region. 

Despite the drama of more climatic moments, the early scenes of the film stuck with me the most. We are introduced to J.D. as a young boy biking the backroads of Jackson, KY. He comes across a turtle with a cracked shell and carries it off the road to release back into the woods alongside a creek. Another boy—wiry, long-haired, and shirtless—appears. With a thick accent, he urges J.D. to pull the shell off or see how far he can throw the turtle. J.D. calmly explains that the turtle can heal and gently places the turtle on the ground. Then, as he floats along the glistening river, a band of teenage boys hold him under water, telling him to go back to Ohio—to where he came from. J.D.’s Papaw and other male relatives jump in and punch one of the teenage boys. I thought this series of scenes created a strong contrast between J.D. and the place and people he claimed to cherish. It perpetuated the idea that J.D. was special and inherently different from his community—which is why he could get out, all the way to Yale. With this early scene, the backdrop of J.D.’s life is drawn up, creating sharp difference between him—a bumbling but bright and good-natured boy—and his barbaric, backwards community. 

I felt like the film fell short during moments like this one. The scenes with J.D.’s immediate family seemed pretty close to the book, and a lot of reviewers have already railed against the portrayal of Vance’s family. Scenes with imagined characters struck a chord with me because they could have been an opportunity to challenge common tropes about the region. 

As Molly said, the film takes a step back from Vance’s political and cultural diagnoses and commentary, focusing on his family’s story. The film is distinct from the book in its apolitical messaging, although I think many may find it difficult to extricate it from the political nature of the book. It seems like the film was hoping the viewers could relate to the Vance family, while not projecting the Vance family onto the region as the book did. That’s a tough balancing act. 

I felt like this balancing act was especially precarious when thinking about the image the Vances presented to the world and the reality within their homes. Early in the film and the book, J.D. explained that much of his family’s drama was expected to be kept within their family and a different, more calculated image was visible to the outside world. J.D. noted how this contributed to the experienced dissonance between the Vances and their community, but I noted that J.D. didn’t extend the potential of this front to other families. One of the most obvious problems with stereotypes is that they reduce people and places to simplified archetypes. The Vances were far more complex than the image they presented to the community, but J.D. and the film failed to offer the same courtesy of complexity to the people around them—assuming that the glimpses and superficial images were a complete picture. In one scene, Bev Vance, played by Amy Adams, chuckles at a couple screaming on the neighboring porch. By providing dysfunctional glimpses into the community without context, the film fails to provide a nuanced look at the region and instead enforces stereotypical ideas. 

Because I talked to Molly about the visuals of the film, I was paying extra attention to some of the visual aspects of the film we discussed. While I was turned off by the way some of the people were depicted, I was also struck by the vibrancy of the film. The hue of almost every scene was bright and the colors were saturated, especially compared to other bleak, colorless depictions of the region. From talking to Molly, I know that this was a key part of her strategy to avoid “Rust Belt porn” representations of the region. I also thought the bright tones sharply contrasted with the grayish, overcast cover of Vance’s memoir. 

Another contrast between the book and the film was Papaw’s character. In the book, Papaw’s evolution from a drunken, sometimes violent father to a more responsible grandfather was fairly common for men of that era and region. For a group of people that’s often cast off as unintelligent and backwards, this progression counters that idea by showing both concern for others and a capacity for growth. Papaw’s character in the film didn’t get much screen time. As Molly said, “it’s about the women, in particular the women who hold the family together.” Even though I thought Papaw’s story relatable, I liked that the film leaned into the Vance matriarchy. While there have been critiques about the details, I think that showcasing the strength of Appalachian women is a good thing.  

There were also brief moments when the humanity and dignity of Appalachians were highlighted. Papaw’s funeral scene showed the Vances in the back of a hearse driving through Kentucky towns and hills. There was an interesting moment when Bev Vance popped a pill under the tense gaze of Mamaw and J.D., followed by a look out the window of the Kentuckians stopping their cars and removing their caps to show respect for the passing funeral train. The juxtaposition of Bev’s drug abuse—a dark but real side of Appalachia—and show of respect from strangers alongside the road demonstrates two different, conflicting sides of Appalachia. While many moments of the film were deserving of criticism, I thought this scene was honest and complex.

I hope that the film prompts conversation about addiction, socio-economic mobility, and media representations of Appalachia and the Rust Belt. The book has often been viewed as a vessel to understand—or misunderstand—a massive part of the country. While his perspective offers one look at the region, it isn’t representative of a broad swath of the population that lives here. Although West Virginia is the only state completely in Appalachia, the region stretches from New York to Mississippi. Some may find threads of Vance’s story relatable, but Hillbilly Elegy is one narrative that shouldn’t be viewed as the guide to understanding Appalachia and the Rust Belt. 

The reality is that if you truly want to get a fuller picture of Appalachia, you have to look beyond Vance’s work or any other singular piece. Appalachia is a very large part of the country, with a diverse population and complex history. Even within West Virginia, there are economic and cultural differences between living in the Northern, Central, and Southern parts of the state. My experience growing up in Wheeling will probably be significantly different than someone who grew up here in Elkins. 

Although J.D. Vance and Hillbilly Elegy have received much attention in mainstream news and media, there are many other sources to learn about Appalachia. For starters, Augusta Heritage Center provides many opportunities to learn about the diversity and history of Appalachia through its films, classes, and live events. One of the most rewarding parts of serving with AHC has been learning more about Appalachian culture through the archives, researching for this blog, and participating in AHC’s programming. Despite growing up in West Virginia, many traditional practices weren’t on my radar before moving to Elkins. It has helped show me how rich and varied Appalachian culture is, and how everyone’s experience of the region is bound to be unique.  Additionally, I’ve compiled a incomplete list of Appalachian authors and films. To gain a deeper idea of what Appalachia is and was, read and watch many of them. 

Authors:

Elizabeth Catte

Charles Fraizer

Anthony Harkins

Homer Hickam 

bell hooks

Silas House

Erynn Marshall

Sharyn McCrumb

Gerald Milnes

Ron Rash

Effie Waller Smith

Frank X Walker

Crystal Wilkinson

Films:

Augusta Documentaries (premiering incrementally on YouTube)

Born in a Ballroom

Box of Moonlight

Coal Black Voices

Coal Miner’s Daughter 

Harlan County, USA

heroin(e)

Hillbilly

Forks of Cheat

Matewan

Moundsville

October sky

Songcatcher